


Friends?

by yoditorian



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, just two fools and how they come to adopt their beachball son, this is based on a headcanon i have pls don't assume i know anything about actual canon events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29777328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoditorian/pseuds/yoditorian
Summary: Poe ropes you into yet another scheme, but at least your only injury is minor burns and mild embarrassment.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Reader, Poe Dameron/You
Kudos: 8





	Friends?

**Author's Note:**

> this was written on my tumblr as a birthday celebration for my best friend and i thought i'd share here!! just a little drabble about our favourite droid and how he met his dad 
> 
> come say hi to me on tumblr- @yoditorian

_ “I need you to meet me at mechanic bay 36, tell no one. And bring a tool trolley?” _

You almost want to say no. You want to laugh through the comm and tell him that no, actually, you’re not spending your only evening off in god knows how long doing something you can  _ already _ tell you definitely shouldn’t be. You’re not stealing a mechanic trolley for him either. Except that you’ve already hummed your agreement into the little microphone and pulled your jacket on. Fuck.

Snagging a tool trolley is easy enough, a dozen sit unclaimed along the wall of the hangar, and you’re so close to making it to the mech bays unnoticed before a voice calls out.

“I don’t suppose you know where my commander is do you?” Leia’s tone is unhurried, like she already knows exactly where he is. She probably does. 

“Haven’t, uh- I haven’t heard from him, but I’ll keep an ear out, General.” You exhale heavily, trying your best to seem just as cool and collected as she is. You’re half convinced you’ve gotten away with it when she starts to turn away, only to cringe a little when she calls back to you over her shoulder.

“Just make sure you get that trolley back when you’re finished  _ not _ doing whatever it is you and Poe are up to.” 

You’re not quite sure what to expect when you round the corner to bay thirty six, dragging the trolley behind you, but it’s definitely not a half-gutted BB unit with an odd paint job up on the bench while Poe swears at a soldering iron. 

“I thought you were going for parts?” You startle him into burning himself  _ again _ , but the smile that lights up his face makes you wonder if he even notices. 

“And just leave him in a junkyard? You know me better than that.” Poe squeezes your shoulder as you switch places so he can dig through the trolley. You take his spot by the soldering iron, while he’s pretty decent at general mechanics, wiring has never really been his forte. There’s chips and scratches in every circuit board that he’s pulled out of the droid and, although you don’t want to admit it, you’re not sure exactly how much you can do to get the little guy up and running. Or rolling, for that matter.

Even so, the hopeful look Poe shoots you over the domed head of his new friend melts any kind of rebuttal you might have been planning. He’s always been able to do that to you.

“The battery’s charged though, I don’t know why he’s not waking up.” Poe sighs, leaning forward against the worktop. You’ve spent all night meticulously rewiring and cleaning and replacing parts of the BB unit, your fingertips are numb from soldering burns, but the droid still sits motionless on the table. Blank eye staring out straight ahead. 

“We could hook him up to 3-PO, give him a little jump.” You suggest, although the idea of dealing with C3-PO at this time in the morning isn’t the most appealing. The withering look you get from across the worktop confirms as much. Instead, you hop up onto the table and turn the droid to face you. Poe leans forward a little more, his temple resting on your right shoulder, and you silently watch the unit for a few minutes. 

Nothing.

“He probably just needs some time. The software upload worked, so he’s functional at least.” Your last few words are lost in a yawn, but Poe gets the message. It’s late. You’re both exhausted. And he’d deprived you of your first evening off for months with some vague excuse to hang out with you. Because he’s too fucking nervous to say anything. Idiot.

A quiet little beep breaks him out of his reverie, the droid’s internal mechanics whirring softly, and you look at him like you can’t quite believe it as he lifts his head from your shoulder. It’s working. 

The droid’s head moves slowly, sluggishly, as the programming starts to kick in, and he almost rolls right off the table. You both shoot your hands out to steady it, breathless laughter catching in your throat when you realise just how close Poe’s face is to yours. 

“Hi there.” You introduce yourself and Poe when the BB unit focuses its eye on you, it’s movements are a little jerky, a little unrefined. But it suits him. 

_ You-  _ It takes him a moment to find his voice,  _ You are friends? _

There’s an odd hesitancy about the way the beeps sound, unlike other droids you’ve fixed up in the past. This one seems almost childlike, physically and verbally, but it’s endearing. You find yourself leaning a little further into Poe and wondering what exactly his new friend went through to get here.

“Yeah, we’re friends. You know, if you wanted to, I could use a little help with my ship.” Poe says with a smile, in much the same way he might if he were trying to get a kid excited about something boring.

_ I know about ships!  _ He’s excited, beeping out a cheerful sort of chirp that makes you laugh,  _ I know about all kinds of ships! I can help! _

He tells you his name is BB-8, like he’s sharing a secret, and a warmth spreads through your chest as you suppress another yawn. Something tells you this particular droid might be trouble, but you can’t claim you’re not used to that. Poe tugs you off of the workbench with a look, his  _ Commander Dameron _ look, and you know he’s right. You really should get some sleep. So you bid BB-8 goodnight with a promise to visit in the morning, and press a kiss to Poe’s cheek before you can think too much about it. They watch you leave, dragging the tool trolley dutifully behind you.

_ It’s not dark anymore. _

“No, buddy, it’s not.” 


End file.
